


The Lost Boys

by evilmaniclaugh



Series: The Art of Not Falling Apart [1]
Category: Third Star (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 03:51:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1372879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilmaniclaugh/pseuds/evilmaniclaugh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year has passed since Barafundle Bay and Miles thinks Davy is a hindrance rather than a help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lost Boys

It's been a year and two months since Barafundle Bay, as close to an anniversary as they can manage, and little by little things are creeping back to normal. It's been hard in so many ways, thinks Miles. He's put the people he cares about through so much and now he needs to give something back.

Sunday lunch at the Griffith house is a good place to start. Mr and Mrs G are getting used to life without James, and Chloe's divorce from Mike isn't upsetting them quite as much as when they first heard the news. Everyone is adapting to the idea of Miles and Chloe being together, but, despite this, they’re taking things slowly, for the girls' sake mostly, but also out of selfish reasons on Miles's part. He's still in a mess financially and he'd like to have some kind of stability before he becomes an upstanding family man like Bill.

"I brought wine," he says as he steps into the hallway. "My usual supplier was out of town so I couldn't get any morphine for the toast."

Everyone laughs.

Miles hugs all the women, old and young, and then shakes hands with Mr Griffith. Davy looks on from the kitchen, but doesn't rush over to greet him.

"Take that apron off, you poof," says Miles, going in for a hug. "Bloody hell, I could play the xylophone on your ribs. Eat some food once in a while."

Davy doesn't respond.

"Is Bill coming today?" Miles asks.

"Larch is teething so he's not allowed."

"I really wish they _had_ called the baby that," laughs Miles.

"Yeah." Davy extricates himself from the long lasting hug and pours wine into glasses. "Take those out to the garden, will you. I've got to check the carrots."

"Does domestic work pay well these days?" snipes Miles and then kicks himself because, for a minute, things were okay between them and now Davy has that wounded look back on his face which makes Miles think of morphine and pain and death.

The family sit around on an assortment of mismatched garden chairs, reliving the silliest moments of James's life, with the girls lying on the grass between them illustrating the stories with crayons and colouring pencils. Miles would be enjoying himself if it weren't for Davy drifting in and out like a vapid housemaid, refilling crisp dishes and drinks. Fucking hell, he makes him so angry.

He soothes his temper by telling everyone about the time when Davy was six and he wet himself at school and had to walk around in his PE kit for the rest of the day, and how James had written a story about it for homework. He's not sure if he meant to hurt Davy or make him laugh, but, looking at the man's face, Miles doesn't think it's even registered.

Dinner is a complicated affair. They begin with a toast to James which sharpens the mood, but then the anecdotes flow with the wine and it's all going well until Miles catches sight of that unshaven, miserable wanker passing the fucking vegetable tureens around like an automaton.

"You really should get a proper job now you're no longer needed as a nurse."

Davy looks at him. "I have a job. I have my old job back actually and I'm good at it. Unlike you, you twat."

"Well then, why don't you bugger off away from here where you're not wanted? You're a ghoul. You're a fucking vampire, leeching the life out of everyone as you try and suck up the last dregs of James."

There's a horrible silence. Davy doesn't react at first, doesn't even pull any of his stupid faces, and it's like he's trying to take it in, but then, all of a sudden, he gets up from the table and leaves the dining room. The front door slams, a car reverses down the drive and that silence is broken by tears.

"How could you call him that? How could you even _think_ it?" Chloe can barely speak. She has her mum in her arms and is trying to comfort her. 

The girls look up at him in dismay.

Mr Griffith picks up the phone. "Has David been drinking?" he asks and Chloe shakes her head. Looking slightly relieved, her dad punches in a number and everyone hears it go to voicemail.

He knows Davy's number off by heart. Miles doesn't.

Mrs Griffith stares at Miles as he walks past them into the garden. "He was everything to James," she says in a whisper and all Miles can do is wonder why.

Unlike Davy, he's too drunk to drive and so he calls Bill. "Take me to Barafundle Bay," he says when Bill pulls up to the kerb.

"I'm not a taxi, mate."

"You are now," Miles says as he summarises the day in abrupt sentences.

"You called him what?"

"A ghoul," says Miles, although he thinks it may have been a rhetorical question. "And he is. What's he still doing there anyway?"

"Are you serious?" Bill narrowly avoids running the car into a hedge.

And it's then that Miles understands. Why Davy gave up his job. Why he never left James's side. Why he's part of the Griffith family and always will be. Miles is struck by the sudden feeling that he always knew.

The weather is getting Welsher by the minute. Bill parks next to Davy's Alfa then leans over and pulls out two bagged up anoraks from the pocket behind the passenger seat. "You'll need these," he says.

Miles is apprehensive. "Are you not coming?" he asks as he climbs out, because Bill has always been the buffer between them.

"You need to talk. You don't need my conciliation service." Bill pulls the door shut and starts the car.

"You can't leave me," Miles says through the open window. "What if he won't take me home?"

"Don't be an idiot. This is Davy we're talking about." Holding up a hand in a one fingered gesture of goodbye Bill drives away leaving Miles standing in the rain holding two plastic macs.

This is Davy, he thinks. Dependable, boring Davy. Not smart like Miles and James. Not talented like Bill. Just Davy. As Miles negotiates the muddy path he can see him, a bleak silhouette sitting on the cliff top, looking out to sea.

"We used to laugh at you," Miles says, raising his voice to be heard over the wind as he spreads out one of the plastic coats on the grass and sits on it quickly before it blows away. "James and I. We laughed at you because you'd never hurt anything and if you did you'd cry."

"You liked making me cry."

"James didn't."

Davy rounds on him like he's going to punch his lights out, but then pulls back at the last second as if it's too much effort. "Shut up. Shut the fuck up."

"He-"

"If you say another fucking lie about him I _will_ kill you." Picking a piece of long grass Davy chews at the tender, pale end. "I was just there, okay. I was needed. He was right; I like to be needed."

"When we were seventeen I offered to give him a blow job," says Miles conversationally. "Don't know why. Wanted to see what it was like, I suppose."

Davy slouches, wipes the water from his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

"He said no." In Miles's mind he and James are still lying on that bed, a bit stoned, a lot pretentious. He'd always thought James must be straight. "How old were you?"

"Fifteen."

"Why didn't I know?"

"Because there was nothing _to_ know. Why don't you get it?"

Davy always goes all high pitched when he's upset. For the first time ever Miles finds it appealing rather than annoying. "I dunno; why don't _you_?" he says.

There's a long silence, broken only by the cries of the seagulls and the wailing of the wind.

"I wasn't sure you'd bring him back." Davy looks out to the rough sea. "I'm glad you did."

"Why?"

"Otherwise I'd never know if it was real. Like the ticket man. He was odd."

"Sometimes I wish I'd left him."

"The ticket man?"

"No, you twonk. James."

"Oh?" Davy looks sideways at him.

"All I see is his face, but it's not him. And when I see you I see all that fucking betrayal you felt." Miles laughs bitterly and gets the phone out of his pocket. "I'd better phone Chloe. Tell her you're alright."

Davy shrugs. "She'll know."

And that's when Miles finally understands family the way Bill does. "I really am fucking sorry, Davy," he says and hopes it's raindrops he's wiping from his face.

"Why? You did what needed to be done." Davy thumps Miles affectionately on the shoulder. "No one hates you for it so stop being a twat."

"Thanks," says Miles.

"And get your book published. It's a bit up itself, but I quite liked it."

 

\---end


End file.
